Up and Vanished
by astridianmayfly
Summary: As they pass his poster, red siren lights ignite the yearbook face of Daniel J. Fenton. Dark hair, blue eyes. 17 years old. 5' 9" and 145 lbs. A misplaced smile and CALL WITH INFORMATION.
1. The Vanishing of Daniel Fenton

**0 minutes**

_12:00 am_

Red eyes open lazily, squinting with a grin. His voice is all malevolence.

_It̴̀'͠͠s̷̛͜ ̧̕͢t̕im͢e._

They nod in response, scattering.

Is _is_ time, and They have a job to do.

**2 minutes**

_12:02 am_

It's dark outside, but it's been like that for awhile. Daylight savings really _is_ a bitch. Maybe Danny didn't have an issue with not being able to see; he never told Sam and Tucker all that much about the semantics of his ghostliness.

Somehow Tucker assumes that the whole "halfa" thing makes a person less susceptible to the elements.

It's the dark that makes Tucker trip on his way out the back door, not the alcohol. He wasn't really in a drinking mood tonight-at best, he's a bit tipsy. Even if he'd been wasted, the freezing air was enough to shock anyone into sobriety. 'Cept Danny maybe, who seemed to wear long sleeves exclusively to not raise any eyebrows and never complained of the cold. Tucker thinks it has something to do with that refrigerator power of his.

And speaking of Danny, where did he go? On the back steps of the bar, Tucker scans the back lot. Nothing. He dials Danny. A buzzing sensation takes root at the back of his head, in tune with the ringing and ringing and ringing on the other line.

"_Hey, you've reached Danny Fenton! Can't take your call right now, but I'll get back to you as soon as I can, byyyeee!"_

God, that same damn voicemail. Tucker helped him make it when they were twelve and Danny'd just gotten a cell, sitting on the floor of Danny's space-decorated bedroom. Danny had yet to replace his prepubescent message with something a little more mature.

Tucker's been hearing it a little too often lately.

He turns to meet Valerie back in the bar; it's about time that they headed home. He looks up to the sky, where he can usually catch a glimpse of his best friend streaking across the stars like he belongs among them.

There is just blackness, blackness, blackness.

**48 minutes**

_12:48 am_

_Here once more._

_He can't say he is surprised._

"_Here" is a bleeding red hellscape. To try and catalog the contents of this ...dimension would send a straightlace into a bout of paranoia. He does his best to remember the details for the next time he arrives._

_When he walks the path, it has a distinct _give. _With every step, his foot sinks, like the ground is made of goo. Lifting his foot again, the substance dissolves. Glowing eyes narrow beneath the disgusting soil substance. The tufts of (what looks like) grass resemble vermillion cactus spines that poke and prod at his ankles. _

_He exhales, unsure. Half-dead and wholly cursed. This must be his natural home._

_Continuing along this path reveals dirt made of burnt poppy petals, cadmium stems like tense fingers point through the ground. Rusty mist sets to his left and right. _

_There is nowhere else to look but up. Up in space there is only the ugly underside of roots that trail from the above. A reminder that he belongs six feet under. Even when he forces his lungs to fill and his heart to beat. _

_A bone-crunching echoes across the Unworld, shocking him out of his stupor: It is Them._

_Each time he wakes here, it is to watch Their arrival. He dreads the dreams._

_They scuttle across the plateau, distant but distinct. They glide like snakes. They are only silhouettes. The extent of Their power is an unknown. _

_He does not like variables._

_This time, They hurry. Their pace is quick. _

_He stares._

_Squinting reveals a shape among Them, someone (or something) he has never seen before in the Unworld. They carry this new figure with both care and disregard-he knows they are a valuable hostage._

_Before he can make further observations, there's a flash of ectoplasmic green._

_One of Them figure turns to face him, their face bearing a single eldritch bloody eye, horrifyingly incomprehensible-_

-And Vladimir Masters wakes with a start, shivering, dripping in cold sweat.

_Well_, he thinks, _this could be a problem. _

**50 minutes**

_12:50 am_

Tucker hums to himself, pulling back his covers and flopping onto his bed. It was late for most, but it was an early night by Team Phantom's standards. All-nighters weren't foreign to Sam, Tucker, and of course Danny. Who had a super annoying tendency to _never_ ask for help when his ghost sense woke him to a _really_ bad Big Bad in vicinity. It was for that reason that Tucker had asked for a Fenton ghost tracking device-calibrated to recognize severe drops in temperature and surges of ectoplasmic energy. Danny agreed when Tucker mentioned it was for his own safety. Which, as a reckless teenager, Tucker couldn't care less about- it was so Tucker could show up in the event of an after-hours ghost attack. He knew Danny needed help, even when he didn't want to admit it.

"_I don't want you guys getting hurt." _

What a load of crap.

Tucker drags himself from his bed to turn off the light. He wishes that we was the genius protagonist of a Disney Channel original movie. Then he'd have a Rube Goldberg machine to do it for him.

Diving into bed, Tucker thinks of the night's events. It had gone pretty well! Ignoring the fact that Danny had flown off mysteriously, Tucker feels like he'd really hit it off with Valerie. She had stopped her shoot-and- ask-questions-never approach with Phantom and they'd formed a sort of truce. Sam was still mildly distrusting of her, but didn't oppose Tucker and Danny inviting her… well, everywhere. And Tucker was glad for it-he really enjoyed her company. He knows Danny's secret stands between the group really connecting. Tucker would never pressure his friend into an uncomfortable situation, but honestly? They all would make a _great _team.

For once, it feels like he isn't the third wheel. He loves both Danny and Sam, but their constant pining and undefined relationship made it hard to be caught in the middle. With Valerie….

...it was just nice to have a friend, that's all.

Tucker closes his eyes. There's just something at the back of his head. A feeling. Like he's forgotten something important.

**52 minutes**

_12:52 am_

Somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, Sam Manson startles awake with the sense that something is irrevocably wrong.

She slips out of what should be a cruise-ship cot but is instead a lavish four-poster bed. There were some benefits to her dad's manic investing, after all. Although she'll never be caught dead admitting it.

Unlocking her bedside balcony, she steps out onto in and inhales the lukewarm air. Sam doesn't smoke, but feels like this moment calls for red lips dragging a cigarette. Ah, aesthetics.

There's nothing for miles out here; the blank ocean churns expectantly. When Sam looks at the sky, she thinks of Danny. She's spent enough time with his dorky self to pinpoint exactly 32 constellations. Danny could do all 88.

Black clouds cover the stars. Sam retreats inside, her stomach filling with dread she can't explain.

**102 minutes**

_1:42 am_

Late-night kitchen escapades involve black coffee and pacing, lots of pacing. Maddie prides herself on her ability to function without much sleep. Those nights when their lab results demanded further analysis and passion kept her awake better than caffeine ever could.

Maddie is draped across a backwards facing chair, staring at the glowing microwave clock. 1:42 am. Danny has not returned. She looks to the darkened hallway. Up the stairs, Jack snores. At least one of them can sleep-Maddie's skin is crawling with unease. Should she be angry? Should she be scared?

If Danny were his do-gooder sister, Maddie would've called the cops the minute he missed the midnight mark. But Danny ...wasn't Jazz, and he never really seemed to give a you-know-what about the fact that he _constantly _disregarded his curfew (and every other rule). Being home by midnight was much more generous than most of Maddie's friends allowed their seventeen year-olds.

Maddie considers calling around. Danny was out with friends tonight- Tucker and that Valerie girl he'd started to hang around with. Making a scene was the least of her concerns (she _was_ known for parading around town in a turquoise jumpsuit), but Maddie didn't want to wake her friends given the late hour.

She keeps pacing.

_He'll come home. He always does, eventually._

That wasn't a good solution for the current predicament. Danny could be in serious trouble, and she would regret being passive.

So, what to do?

She knows she can't just wait here.

A flash of metal catches her eye. An ecto-weapon.

Time to kill two birds with one stone.

She shoulders the Fenton foamer, a thermos, and leaves the safety of her house.

**129 minutes**

_2:09 am_

"What, no 'I, Technus, master of all things cyber!' speech today?"

Technus dodges the ectoblasts from the human easily. He's one of the ghost child's friends, the one who always has a PDA within arm's length. Technus may start thinking of the boy as a convenience: his devices made for a cozy hideout when Technus was devising a plot for WORLD DOMINATION!

Technus scoffs as the child pulls out their go-to thermos. Avoiding the beam of light, he says, "Technus 3.0 does not announce his plans, or his power! Technus 3.0 prefers to operate, as they say, 'under the radar!'" He allows his form to grow electric with energy as the child sends another ectoblast whizzing past his ear.

Technus sends volts charging towards the boy, who narrowly misses the attack. The bolt hits a nearby lamppost, which explodes into a shower of sparks and plunges the city block into darkness.

PDA child is oblivious to the outage. Green smoke trailing from his wrist-shooter, he narrows his eyes. "Cut the crap, Technus, we know upgrades manifest in your physical form."Tell me why you're here—"He aims the device on his wrist at Technus—"or I'll make you."

What a strange demand. But Technus understands his caution. After all, Technus regularly threatens the power grid.

"Truly, child, I don't know why I'm here! I just am! I, Technus, am—"

The boy lowers his weapon to facepalm. "What does that even _mean_? You ghosts _always _have an agenda."

Technus responds by taking advantage of his lack of defense, firing his own-made lightning. The shot lands, skimming the boy's forearm.

Yelping in pain, the PDA boy rears his offense, this time brandishing a thermos. "Not—a good enough excuse to be wreaking havoc, so it's into the thermos for you," he hisses through clenched teeth.

Something unseen grabs ahold of Technus' mind for a moment. It grabs the corners of his mouth and _pulls_ until Technus is grinning a painful smile.

"Where's the ghost child, kid?"

Before the PDA child has time to consider this, and Technus can rid his mind of the imposter, he is engulfed in a familiar burst of white.

**134 minutes**

_2:14 am_

"_Tucker?"_

Mrs. Fenton catches sight of him after she caps her Technus-filled thermos. Where did she come from?

Tucker panics. He has been caught literally red-handed- armed with a wrist-ray and a Fenton thermos at two in the morning.

He expects her to comment on his apparent thievery, but she doesn't seem interested in dissecting his crimes. Mrs. F seems to be looking around Tucker, as if expecting another ghost.

He looks at her face, and she is as white as a sheet.

"Danny isn't with you?"

Tucker blanches. _What? _

"He isn't...he didn't come home?"

Mrs. F puts a gloved hand over her mouth.

Tucker is more insistent the second time. "_Ms. Fenton, did Danny not come home?" _

Her eyes are shining when she slowly shakes her head_. _

"No. Danny…Danny's gone."

**\- minutes**

_Outside of Time_

You hover in your tower, form shifting between young and old, old and young. Despite the changes to your figure, a somber expression remains.

You watch the scenes of the day unfold- the events occurred, occurring, to occur.

Everything is as it should be.


	2. The Witness

**approx. -25200 minutes (**_**Two and a half weeks Before)**_

_3:19_

"_Tucker!"_

Tucker's half-asleep. He isn't sure why Danny is radio-ing him at 3 AM. 'Cause it certainly isn't about fighting ghosts. _Noooo…_ because Danny doesn't _need _his help with that….

"_TUCKER!"_

_Ugh. _

"Yeah, yeah. What? Over."

"_God, I seriously need your help. Cujo-you remember Cujo-"_

"-unfortunately-"

"_-Yeah, so, like… he will NOT get off of me… I swear, I woke up FOR ONCE not feeling like I've inhaled Icy Hot, just to shovel shredded cheese in my mouth at ungodly hours because I had too much coffee today. Like a _normal _person, you kno-"_ Danny is cut off by...eldritch barking? Well, yeah. That explained the dog problem.

"_God, I am so fucked… anyways, there he was! Just sitting and GLOWING in front of the fridge! And he recognized me because apparently dead dogs also have good noses and he won't stop licking me...my parents are like TWO seconds away from waking up he keeps YIPPing and I can't find a thermos pleasehelp. Uh, over?"_

_Here comes the cleanup crew_, Tucker mentally grouches.

"I gotchu, dude. Over."

He hears Danny breathe a sigh of relief.

Tucker grabs his shoes, a thermos, his PDA, and slips out his window soundlessly.

**139 minutes**

_2:19_

Tucker stumbles home. The coldness invades his nostrils, _seeping_ into his pores. His eyes water as the wind assaults him.

Distractedly, Mrs. F had asked if she needed to walk him home. But when she offered, her eyes flickered to the shattered lamppost, to the sky, to the ground. _No thank you, I can walk, I'll keep an eye out for Danny, He'll probably turn up soon, seeyoulaterbye! _

He'd told her that the commotion from Technus's attack had triggered his obvious curfew-breakage. Half-truths are always better than lies. He forced himself to stop blinking, and looked directly into her eyes. He, Sam, and Danny had all worked on mastering their individual tells. To varying degrees of success.

Tucker's breaths come up shorter and shorter until he's nearly hyperventilating. He begins to run, his left hand holding his PDA, his right wrapped around a vacant thermos.

**approx. -25200 minutes (**_**Two and a half weeks Before)**_

_3:24 _

Tucker never anticipated Danny walking into the Fenton Portal might change his own life as much as it had. Natural abilities _his ass_. Learning how to scale a building was hard as shit and the skill had come at the price of various callouses adorning his palms.

(He knows he really doesn't have it all that bad. In comparison.)

He's on Danny's ledge, pulling his backpack off of his shoulders. Two years ago, Tucker never would have done something like this. But now? Let's just say he can look down without significant panic racing through his veins. He unzips his backpack to radio Danny something nerdy like "the Eagle has landed", before realizing he can just _knock. _

He peers into Danny's bedroom. _Yoo-hoo! Anyone home? _

Surprisingly, Danny's actually there. He's looking into his closet and saying something that Tucker can't make out. Another mentionable detail is a small Cujo stands alert at Danny's ankles, also peering inside his closet. What's there that's _that _interesting?

Then he sees the green glow. From inside… Danny's closet?_. _

_The hell?_

Tucker knows this is pretty weird, even for his not-totally-human friend. He chooses that moment to knock.

Danny jumps about five feet in the air, all deer-in the-headlights. He doesn't smile or look even sheepish when he catches Tucker's eye.

Danny slams his closet door quickly and quietly, and the green light dies immediately.

**141 minutes**

_2:21_

Sam is _just _about to fall asleep when her phone rings. Her body does that fake-fall thing, and a string of rated-r curses accompanies her eyes snapping open. _Why_ did she not put her phone on silent? What spam caller had _the audacity_ to call her at this hour?

But when she pays a glance to her bedside table, she sees that it's _Tucker, _of all people.

Years of paranoid parenting have clued Sam in on the proper don't-get-caught code, and she just _knows _the walls are thin on this ship. She slips back onto the balcony and picks up.

"You're such a dumbass, Tucker."

"_Sam? You there?" _

Sam gets Bad Vibes when she hears the _panting _from Tucker's end. "Are you _running?_"

"_Ha-ha. But seriously, Sam, this is serious, I-"_

"-Is there an... invasion?" She's worried. Danny, Tucker… _and Valerie_... aren't equipped to deal with a Pariah incident. She spares a glance at the sky. The clouds have not budged.

"_Sam. I can't find Danny. No one can."_

Sam grips her phone tighter. "What do you _mean _you can't find him?"

"_What I _mean _is that him, Valerie, and I were all at the Ugly Tuna Saloona tonight. The bar right by Nasty Burger? We left, like... a little after midnight? But before, Danny and I were talking, and then-" _Tucker pauses to catch his breath. "_-he walked out on me, so I followed him outside. Only when I followed him, he wasn't there. I assumed he flew home, even though I couldn't see him, I figured he was probably just invisible, you know how he's been more careful lately, since-" _

"-Just. Keep going." It feels like corrosive acid has invaded Sam's gut.

"_...So then, I drove Valerie home, you know, designated driver. I, myself, got home. And I just… went to bed, assumed it was any normal night. But my Fenton ghost-detector thing pinged at like 2 AM, and it was a big one, not just a blob ghost. So I went outside, and it was Tech-jerk. Everything went normally until, like, the end of me blasting him, and he asked where Danny was. But his voice was all static-y and weird. I was confused, too, cause Danny _always _shows up for the ghost attacks. And before I could say or do anything, Mrs. _Fenton _showed up and themos-d Technus."_

"Wait. She caught you?"

"_She did. And Technus. But she literally did not even care. You know why? She was looking for Danny. Sam, _he never came home."

"Holy, _shit _Tucker, you were _supposed _to keep an eye on him!" Out of context, Sam sounds like she's talking about a toddler.

She and Tucker have an agreement: Danny protects the town. They protect Danny.

"And _you don't you think that I know that? I'm scared shitless, Sam. Sometimes he goes flying to clear his head or whatever, but then _why _did Technus ask me WHERE HE WAS in that creepy-ass way?"_

"We can't jump to any conclusions…" She trails off. She knows they have both jumped and landed. Danny isn't a normal kid-he's got _enemies. _

"_Maybe. But I have a reaaalllly bad feeling about this."_

Sam wants to scream, cry, lash out. And she will. But Tucker needs help, and he's the one who's close enough and in the-know to do just that.

She takes a breath, regains her composure.

"Are you home yet? Did you even get home?"

"_I was running back, at first. But now I'm just standing outside so I can talk to you without waking anyone up." _That's right-he isn't speaking between breaths anymore.

"Here's what you're going to do. You gotta use those cameras you set up in the lab."

"_The cameras? Sam, the Fentons didn't dispose of their own son."_

"No shit, Tucker! But if Mrs. F _knows _Danny is gone, before she calls the police, she's going to try and find him herself. And you know how she's going to do it? She's not an idiot. We aren't the only ones who know that Fenton tech keys into Danny."

She can practically hear it dawn on Tucker. "_You think she's going to use the Boooo-merang."_

"I _know _she's going to use the Boooo-merang. It only makes sense. But what you need to do is see what happens when she _does. _If she releases that thing, it could go anywhere- maybe even the Ghost Zone, if Technus has an idea of where Danny is. And you have to follow it."

"_What are you going to do?"_

"I'm going to call Jazz. This is serious, and we need all hands on deck."

"_Okay." _Tucker's voice sounds very small.

"Ok?"

"_Ok."_ He sounds more confident.

"I'm going to hang up now."

"_Alright. Let me know what Jazz says. Maybe Danny said something to her?"_

"Maybe." Sam hopes she doesn't sound as unsure as she feels.

When she hangs up, she is startled by how _quiet _it is without Tucker's anxious jabber.

So she dials Jazz, lest she be alone with the weight of her fears.

**approx. -25200 minutes (**_**Two and a half weeks Before)**_

_3:26_

When Tucker slips through Danny's window, he doesn't hold back. "Dude. The hell was in your closet?"

Danny looks startled, then confused. "My...closet?"

Tucker gestures towards the door in question. "Yeah, dude. Looked like you had the portal from "Poltergeist" in there. Except ghost edition."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Cujo was just messing around. In the time you took to get here he ran up the stairs and started _decimating _my room. As evidenced by the crap everywhere."

"This is how your room looks all the time."

"Oh hardy-har. Aren't you just _hilarious._"

Between Danny's misdirection and slick-as-silver explanation, Tucker doesn't feel the need to pry as to why Danny was _talking _to whatever (or whoever) was emitting that ectoplasmic glow. He almost believed him too, had he not noticed Danny's subtle scratching the back of his neck as he defended himself.

Liar, liar.

**190 minutes**

_3:10_

She stands alone in their lab-basement. When she woke Jack up, he rushed to the car. She assumes he is maniacally driving through the streets, calling out Danny's name in desperation, phoning around, performing his own investigation.

After he had rushed out the door, Maddie tore the house apart. Over and over, sobbing her son's name. She looked in boxes full of scrapped inventions, within dirty lunchbox containers, underneath the couch cushions, behind his bed and space-themed duvet… as if her son was a speck of dust lying in wait. _Danny? Danny? Danny? _over and over and over.

The skin under her eyes has stitched itself together with runny mascara and tear-salt. Her head pangs.

She holds the Booo-merang in trembling hands. She faces the Fenton portal, ajar and unlocked. She wanted to give the Booo-merang freedom to move wherever it so chose.

For everyone is a suspect-human or ghost.

When Maddie throws the Booo-merang, it falls to the floor _fast._ She tries again and again and again, to no avail.

She sinks to her knees, picking the failure off of the floor. Maddie hugs it to her chest. The red tracker light blinks.

_Danny? Danny? Danny? _

**approx. -25200 minutes (**_**Two and a half weeks Before)**_

_3:30_

"So, uh, Cujo's all settled? Everything's all good?"

Danny shrugs. "Yeah, he sorta stopped barking around the time you got here."

His hand reaches for the back of his neck.

Tucker shifts. It's late. "Can I go? You got my thermos, right?"

Danny waves it, in proof. "Yeah, I'm good, thanks. See you tomorrow. Or… today?" He gives Tucker a goofy half-smile, to which Tucker simply rolls his eyes. There is no one dorkier than Danny. And no one with worse puns.

It's when Tucker's walking home later that he realizes that Cujo was a guard dog during his lifetime, and he wonders if Danny called him to fulfill a similar purpose.

**195 minutes**

_3:15_

Despite William Lancer's penchant for doling out detentions, he really does not like to get others in trouble. Much easier was it to live under the radar and enjoy life's little pleasures: a good book or a receptive student. As a teacher of the world's most chaotic demographic, Lancer especially understands the purpose of law and order. _Lord of the Flies,_ people can't just do whatever they want! And so William Lancer likes to think that he does his best to abide by the rules.

Lancer has, of course, heard of the, "If you see something, say something" police campaign. Despite the memorability of this particular rule, Lancer's "something" was rather… unprecedented. For starters, the event he witnessed was of the paranormal breed.

And though Lancer hates to admit it, he isn't sure he can _trust_ the authorities that are tasked with responding to ghostly crime and complaints.

He was just passing by in his car. It was a night like any other when he saw...well, what exactly did he see? He witnessed the town's hero vulnerable and clearly in great distress. The look on Phantom's face was so reminiscent of the teenagers he taught, wide-eyed, posturing to hide their fear. He has always harbored compassion for the young ghost.

Lancer is worried. Time has passed since his sighting. The more he mulls it over, he knows he must tell _someone. _He could not help on his own.

Sighing, he stands up from his spot on the couch. It's a chilly night, Lancer remembers, so he grabs a scarf. He starts towards his front door.

His hand is on the doorknob when a hand grabs his.

_Crime and Punishment!_

Freezing, he turns around slowly. When his breath begins to fog, he realizes the reason for his complacent security alarms and no notification of motion on his cameras.

_Ghost. _

This is a big ghost. White. Tall. Vaguely familiar. He's probably been possessed by this one-perks of living in Amity Park.

The ghost, still holding Lancer by the wrist, lifts him up to his eye level. Lancer shakes uncontrollably.

"Well, we can't go around _snitching, _can we, punk?"

The ghost leers at him.

Lancer knows he is about to die.

"That would be ā̑͌ͩĝ̠̂̄͛̂̆̓a͍͍͚̹̮̫̖͂̒i̙n͖̰̺̺s̳̤t̟͛ͭ͋ ̟͍͓̠̗̇ͯ́͒̊̽t́h̤̪̺͔͕̥͂ͦ̃͌̍e̲͒̐̽ͣ̄͌̉ ̆ͬ͊͗̃͗̋r̙͚̘̰̠ͅu̻̯̝͚͙͛̐̀́͋l̙̝͌ͮ̃ͨ͆ͅe̬̫̜ͤ̉͒̒̂̑͐s̭͈̜ͯ."


End file.
